Something Borrowed
by lauraap
Summary: My eyes are closed, then they open, then closed again. And then somehow, I am having sex with my best friend's fiancee also posted at A03


I first thought about turning 30 when I was in fifth grade. My best friend Scott and I were flipping through a calendar book looking for what day our birthday fell on the next year. Mine being a Wednesday, a school night. His being on a Friday. A small victory for him, but typical for me. Scott always seems to have luck on his side. He got the cooler bike, the better pokemon cards. All the older ladies would pinch his cheeks and would praise him for his lopsided smile , while I was called gangly and was told I would grow into my body, more known for my brains and the endless stream of sarcasm that poured out of my mouth, even at such a young age. Looking at my thirtieth birthday, so far in to the future it felt like science fiction, it was on a Sunday, meaning I would be out with my dashing husband, and I would hire the best baby sister to care for our 2, maybe 3, perfect children. We would dine at the finest restaurant, both dressed to the nines. I would have just won a big case, somehow proving that the innocent man in fact didn't do it. My husband would toast to me "To Stiles, my handsome husband, the father to much children, and the finest lawyer in Beacon". Upon telling my fantasy to Scott, he promptly check his birthday, a Monday for him. Bummer. I watch him pout his lips,processing. "You know, Stiles, who cares what day of the week it is when we turn thirty?" shrugging his small shoulders. "We'll be old by then. Birthdays don't matter when you get that old." I thought about my parents, both in their thirties. My moms birthday had been the month prior, my dad got her a toaster, the old one broke a week before. She seems excited, the new one being about to toast 4 pieces instead of two. Scott was probably right, birthday just didn't matter when you got that old. The next time I think about turning thirty is when I'm in my senior year of high school. Scott and I marathon the seasons of Friends. While the show was funny, I couldn't help think about the drama that they put themselves through could have easily been avoided if they would just suck it up and grow up. Stop acting like children and start making grocery lists. That was when I thought my teenage years were dragging and that my twenties would definitely last forever. Then I reached my twenties, and the early twenties did seem to last forever, when I had acquaintances talk about turning thirty I felt smug, not in the danger zone yet. I still had plenty of time. Until I reached about age 27, where the days of being carded are over, I began to marvel to how fast time was going, remembering my mother's annual speech about how fast they years go by. At age twenty-nine the real dread sets in, I realize in a lot of ways that I may as well be thirty, but not quite, I could still say I was in my twenties. I still had something in common with college seniors. I realize that thirty is just a number, you are only as old as you feel and all that. I also realize that thirty is still young. But its not that young. Its past the most ripe prime childbearing years. Its too old to say, start training for an Olympic medal, even in the best die of old age scenario, you are still about one-third of the way to the finish line. So I can't help but feel uneasy as I sit on the over stuffed couch in a dark club on the Upper West Side at my surprise party that Scott, who is still my best friend put on. Tomorrow is the Sunday I first thought about as a fifth grader playing with our phonebook. After tonight my twenties will be over forever, another chapter closed. The feeling I have reminds me of New Years Eve when the count down is coming and I'm not sure if I should grab my camera or just live in the moment. Normally I grab my camera and regret it later when the picture comes back to dark and blurry, after I feel terribly let down, and think about how the night would have been more fun if it hadn't been so important. Like New Years Eve, tonight is a end and a beginning. I don't like ending and beginnings. The worst thing about this particular ending (my youth) and beginning (of middle age) is the for the first time in my life I have no idea where i'm going. My wants are simple; a job that I like and a man whom I love. And on the night of my thirtieth, I face the fact that I am 0 for 2. First off, im an attorney for large firm in New York City, so by definition that means that I am miserable. Being a lawyer just isn't as fun as they seem to make it in the movies. I work excruciating hours, for an very mean, anal retentive partner. Doing the most tedious tasks. I ended perfecting the law-firm associate mantra: I hate my job and I will quit my job. And I will, as soon as I pay off my school loans, just as soon as I get next years bonus, as soon as I can find something else to do to pay rent, or find someone that can pay for it. Which brings me to my second point. I am alone is a city of millions. I have a ton of friends. Prove tonight by the solid turn out tonight. Friends to summer in the Hampton's with, friends to meet up on Thursday night for a drink after work. And I have Scott, my best friend from home, a friend that I can do anything with. But of coarse everyone knows that friend aren't enough, I didn't plan on being alone in my thirties. I wanted a husband by now, I wanted to be a groom in my twenties. But I have learned even if you make your own timetable, life doesn't care. So here I am on a brink of a new decade, realizing that being alone makes my thirties more daunting, and that being thirty makes me feel more alone. My inner turmoil is even more sad because my oldest and best friend has a glamorous PR job and is freshly engaged, Scott is still the lucky one. I watch her now, telling a story to the group the surrounds him, including his fiance. Derek and Scott are a beautiful couple. Scott, was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes, a crooked smile that makes your heart melt, Derek with raven coloured hair, slight stubble on his face, and green eyes that glinted like jewels. They are among New York's elite. The well groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal at Bloomingdales. You hate their smugness but you can help but stare as you looking for a not to expensive vase for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You would catch a glance at Scott's ring and would instantly regret it. He would catch you staring and would give you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn just a hoodie and jeans into the store. You buy your Waterford vase and get the hell outta there. "So the lesson of the story is, if you ask for a wax make sure you tell them to leave a landing strip or you end up looking like a hairless ten year old" Scott finishes his baldy story, everyone laugh expect Derek, who has a smile small on his face and is shaking his head as if to say what a piece of work his fiancee is. "Okay, ill be right back! Tequila shots for everyone!" Scott suddenly shouts, stepping away from the group and over to the bar. He is flirting with the bartender which he already told me he would "totally do" if he was single. It occurs to me that I could try and hook up with the bartender. I am completely unattached, I haven't had a date in 3 months. But one night stands doesn't seem like something someone in their thirties should do. Scott returns with the shots in hand, he quickly throws it back but Derek refuses his, Scott turns to me and insists I take two. Quickly the night is taking on a blurry edge of drunk. Apparently Scott has reached that point faster then I have because he is up dancing on the bar, shaking his hips, grinding back on the air. "Stealing the show at your own party" Kira, my close friend from work, says to me under her breath, "He's shameless" I laugh "Yeah, par for the coarse" Scott lets out a yelp and claps his hands in the air, he beckons me over with a come hither look that would appeal to any man or women that would have to see some man-on-man action. "Stiles! Stiles, come up here!" Of course he know that i'm not going to, I smile and shake my head politely declining. We all wait for his next move, which is to grab a shot and rise it up " Happy birthday Stiles! Everyone raise a glass!" he shouts. Everyone raises their glass and Scott downs his shot. A minute later Derek is whisking him off the bar, putting him over his shoulder then swiftly deposits him on the floor, all in one fluid motion, clearly he has done this before. " Alright" He announces. "I'm taking our little party planner home" Scott plucks his drink off the bar and stomps his foot "You're not the boss of me Der! Is he, Stiles?" as he says that his martini sloshes onto Dereks shoe. He scowls. "C'mon Scott, you're wasted. This isn't fun for any one but you" "Okay. Okay. I'll go… I'm feeling kind of sick anyways" He said pouting, looking kind of queasy "Are you going to be okay?" "Im going to be just fine. Don't you worry." He says, now playing the part of the brave little sick boy. I thank him for the party, tell him it was a total surprise, which it wasn't, I know Scott would go all out on my thirtieth. He starts gushing about what he would do without me, his brother, his man of honour, his rock. Derek cut him off "Happy birthday Stiles, we will talk to you tomorrow." He kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks Der." I say. "Goodnight" I watch him usher Scott out of the building holding onto his arm because Scott almost tripped and smashed his face off the pavement. Oh to have such a caretaker, to be able to drink with reckless abandonment and know that there is someone to make sure that you get home safely. Sometime later Derek shows up at the bar again. " Scott think he lost his jacket in here" He says "Have you seen it?" "He lost his new Chanel jacket?" I shake my head and laugh because its just like Scott to leave stuff places. I help Derek look for Scott's jacket, finally spotting it under a table. As he turns to leave Derek's friend Isaac, one of his groomsmen, convinces him to stay. "C'mon man. Hang out for a minute" So Derek calls Scott, and he slurs his constant telling him to have fun with out him, he probably thinks that couldn't be possible. Gradually my friends start to leave, wishing me a final happy birthday, till Derek and I outlast everyone. Even Isaac. We sit at the bar making conversation with the bar back until we are told that we have to get out. Derek is hailing me a cab when he turns around and asks if I would like one more drink before we call it a night. We get into the cab and he tells the driver to just drive, that he has to think about where to go next. We end up in Alphabet City, at a bar called CJ5. The bar isn't as swanky as the one the held my party. CJ5 is dingy and smoke filled. Derek points to a booth. "Have a seat, I'll be right with you" he turns to walk towards to be before turning back " What can I get for you?" He asks. I tell him I'll have whatever he has, then go to sit and wait for him at the booth. I watch him say something to a girl at the bar wearing army green cargo pants, and a shirt that says Fallen Angel. She smiles at whatever he says and shake her head. A moment later Derek is sliding in the seat opposite from me. Pushing a beer across the table into my hands. "Newcastle" he says. Then smiles, crinkly lines form at the sit of his eyes. I nod and smile. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Fallen Angel turn in her chair and survey Derek. Taking his chiselled features, his dark hair and his full lips. Scott often complained that Derek got more double take then he does. Unlike Derek's counterpart, Derek doesn't seem to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes my way. Probably wondering why someone like Derek, is with someone so average. I hope she thinks we are a couple. Tonight nobody has to know that I am only part of the wedding party. Derek and I talk about our jobs and summering in the Hamptons, that he and I are splitting this summer with some of our friends. After we finish our beers we go over to the Jukebox that's in the corner of the room. We fill it with dollars bills then push the buttons for the song we both agreed on. A while later its last call at CJ5, we order a couple more beers and we return to our booth. Sometime later we are in a cab again, going north on First Avenue. "Two stops" Derek tells our cabbie, because we live on two opposite sides of Central park . I glance a the silver dial of his Rolex, a gift from Scott. Its just shy of four o'clock. We sit silently looking out of our respective windows, until the cab hit's a pothole and I am launched into the middle of the back seat, my leg grazes Dereks. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Derek kisses me, or maybe I kiss him . Somewhere we are kissing. My mind goes blank as I listen to the soft sound of our lips meeting again and again. At some point Derek knocks the plastic that is separating the back from the front and tell the cabbie ,in-between kisses, that there is actually only going to be one stop. We arrive in front of my building, when the cab stops Derek hands him a gets out of the cab, not waiting for his change. We kiss on the sidewalk, then in front of Jose, my door man. We kiss the whole way up in the elevator. My back pressed up against the wall, my hands are at the back of Derek's head, surprised that his hair is so soft. I fumble with my key, turning it the wrong way, as Derek keeps his arms around my waist pressing kisses into my neck and the side of my face. Finally the door opens and we are kissing in the middle of my studio, standing upright, leaning on nothing but each other. We stumble, kissing, over to my neatly made bed. "Are you drunk?" He whispers into the darkness. "No" I whisper back, because you always say no when you are drunk, even though I am a little. Scott is in my mind but gets pushed back, overwhelmed by a force stronger then our friendship and my own conscience. Derek moves over me. My eyes are closed, then they open, then closed again. And then somehow, I am having sex with my best friend's fiancee 


End file.
